


The foster family kid

by Saluzozette



Series: Prompt [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: He has a pretty rough childhood, I love them all so much really, Modern Era, but Feuilly is just Feuilly, but he's a warrior, he's perfect, i love him so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8871145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saluzozette/pseuds/Saluzozette
Summary: Only ten and Feuilly was already a realist. He knew he had to save as much money as he could right now for the day he would turn eighteen and get kicked out of the foster system. He was only ten and held no illusions on what his life would be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anything confusing because french will be explain at the end ;)  
> Enjoy your reading!

Feuilly got his first job at the early age of ten, when his foster parents told him he would earn ten euros a week if he cleaned his and the two other younger children's rooms weekly. Ten euros a week! That was a huge deal in little Feuilly's eyes, but he quickly realized it wouldn't be enough. Only ten and he was already a realist. He knew he had to save as much money as he could right now for the day he would turn eighteen and get kicked out of the foster system. He was only ten and held no illusions on what his life would be. He was already ten, but his savings – all the birthdays and Christmas money since he was seven – didn't even reach three hundred euros yet.  
He did the math pretty fast. With the prospect of his current foster family keeping him a year more, and not forgetting or letting go of their deal, he would make around four hundred euros a year, gifts included, which meant he would have almost eight hundred euros on new year's Eve. It wasn't enough. It was far from enough. Feuilly was sure he could make it a thousand if he tried harder.  


The problem was: child labor is illegal in France, or any European country for the matter. Of course, Feuilly didn't know that at the time, and firmly believed it would have been easier to earn money if he had been born in England, or in the USA. There, kids could go around their fancy suburbs, knocking at the doors and getting payed for the easiest tasks. Five pounds for changing a light lube, making it ten if they walked the dog. Twenty dollars for mowing the lawn, twenty-five if you fixed the fence. Had he been American or British, he would have earned a hundred in less than a month!  
Obviously, what Feuilly also ignored was that not everybody in the USA or in the UK lived in freaking sitcoms. Little ten-years old Feuilly was sensitive and naive, and believed most of what he saw on television, which meant he had pretty stereotypical ideas about the whole world and everybody in it. He didn't even had a problem with the belief that everybody on the planet seemed to live better lives than him, because with him not having parents and his jumping-around-foster-families-every-two-years routine, he just figured it made sense. His life was shitty, and so? He thought. Stop whining and go make it better.  
The thing is it wasn't easy for a skinny ten-years old boy to find a job. For a start, there were no gardens in his suburb. Just large, tall and ugly towers called HLM*, where people were squashed on each other. No gardens, which also meant no fences to fix and no dead leaves to collect. The people of his tower were too poor to pay him anyway, most of them already having to skip dinner in order to feed their children, so it meant no walking the dogs either.  
Another problem was school, which took like, the biggest part of his week, and of course, _of course _he wouldn't drop school. What was the whole point of saving money for the future if he dropped school? But, going to class, coming back home, as he lived pretty far from where he studied, took time. Time he could have spent on earning more money.__  


Little by little, Feuilly manage to patch up a very full and complicated schedule for him to follow. He would go to school every day, of course, then do his homework in the public transportation. He would hop off the bus and run straight to the grocery store he worked in. The owner of the place was a really nice middle-aged man with chronic pain in the back named Hamid, who had agreed on paying him five euros the hour, an hour a day, three days a week if he helped him to carry the heavy boxes and to stow the store. It wasn't much, but it was all his Boss could do, and for all the aches and pains Feuilly had gotten the first few days he worked there, the smiles and thank you were more than enough for him to sell the deal. Had he suddenly become rich and famous, he would have kept working at the grocery store, just for the sake of those smiles.  
On the days he was at the store, he would go straight home after work. He would use the two other days of the week to get through any big homework he didn't have the time to finish on the bus, and then on the weekends, he would do his part of the deal and clean up his room and his foster siblings' one.  
The worst were the summers, because then he didn't have to go to school, but he still wasn't allowed to get a job, and frankly, what was he supposed to do with all the time he had on his hands? He tried to sell water bottles to tourists, but it wasn't so successful. Then he tried to be a tour guide, but again, no one wanted to hire him. Every day he would go to the busiest part of the city and try something new. Nothing ever worked for more than a week. It was discouraging. Really, Feuilly hated summers.  


To his biggest surprise, this foster family ended up keeping him longer than expected. Feuilly stayed with them from nine to fourteen, and when he had to go, it wasn't even their fault. He was the one who suggested it, because it just made sense. They were having their second child, and having five children in their ridiculously small apartment felt stupid. As much as Feuilly wanted to stay, he knew he had to go. He was fourteen when his oldest foster sibling was only ten. It was the first time he felt a sense of belonging somewhere, but he couldn't stand the thought of being a burden. Many tears were shed by everybody when he stepped out the door for the last time. They all promised they would keep in touch, but of course nobody did. Life was just made this way.  
In the meantime, from ten to fourteen, he had kept working every day of the week, every week of the month. It had reflected on his grades, which had dropped a little, but it was a small price to pay, because he now owned almost six thousand euros. It was still far from enough to live on his own, but he wasn't too worried, because in a little bit more than a year he would turn sixteen and then he'd be able to get a real job. He was doing just fine. He would put through everything.  
And because it is the freaking universe we're talking about, Murphy's laws had to applied. High school* was a brand new level of Hell. Feuilly had managed to put through middle school okay enough, but the amount of work they asked from him now was entirely different. Also, his new foster family was way less supportive than the previous one. They weren't mean, not at all. He would eat enough, and sleep very well, and live pretty decently, but they just didn't give a damn about him. It was almost like he wasn't there. Or like he was there, but only as a guest who would leave soon. Yeah, really nice feeling...  
His biggest problem though was that he had to create a whole new working schedule, again. Because high school took much more time than middle school, and because Hamid wasn't around anymore to grant him a job, and because he didn't know anyone anymore anyway. He had lost all his connections, all his street's knowledge, everything. He had to start back from zero again.  


Feuilly tried to sell counterfeit for a while, but quickly gave up. It made good money, but he really wasn't in for illegal stuff. He felt bad about earning money on the behalf of people, so he let it go. Instead, he started doing babysitting. It was also nice, because Feuilly was good with kids. He loved them and they loved him back, and it was well-paid for the most part. Also, when the children were in bed, he had extra time to do his homework. It took a while for him to be able to do a babysitting every weeknight, but he managed it just fine after two or three months of struggling.  
It was around that time that Feuilly figured what he wanted to do for a living. Until then, it had only been a question mark hanging over his head and a recurring theme for everyone. It was like the adults expected kids to have their future figured out from the age of five. “ _What do you want to do when you grow up? _”, “ _Oh, you surely must have some ideas, right? What do you like to do? _”. The thing is, Feuilly had spent so much time trying to figured out how to simply _make it _to that hypothetical time he would actually have a job, that he never took the time to really think about what the job would be. And anyway, every time he did try, he would get a vicious feeling of hopelessness creeping up in his throat. Like no matter what he did, no matter how hard he fought, he wouldn't make it anyway. Why would he when so many kids with better living conditions failed every day? That's why Feuilly burrowed himself in work. So he wouldn't have to think of why he was working.______  
But being around young children, taking care of them on a daily basis, helping them with their homework before the shower and trying to explain in simple terms what his own homework were, suddenly, it didn't feel this scary anymore to think a little bit ahead. He was good with kids, and he liked being around them. He liked to teach them stuff he knew. He enjoyed it even when they were being difficult, throwing tantrums and being stubborn about god-damn broccoli! That was what he wanted to do. Or well, that was an option he could consider without becoming a nervous wreck.  


Then Feuilly turned sixteen, and immediately started a part-time job in a McDonald. He hated it, but at least he was on minimum wage instead of half of it, and that was a freaking huge progress compared to everything he had earned since he was ten. He didn't stop the babysitting, he just reduced them to twice a week. On the weekends he would give private lessons, and somehow, it helped him just as much as it helped his students. Hi grades, which had been just above not so good since he started high school suddenly climbed up. He was the first surprised by this, but he hid it pretty well when all the teachers and the headmaster herself congratulated him.  
By the time he turned seventeen, he had almost saved up to twenty-three thousand euros and had no idea how to feel about that because how in hell did he managed to get that much money on his own?! On one hand he felt like he was a freaking Crésus* and it was insane, on the other hand, he dreaded the day he would turn eighteen and would have to start digging into that money.  
Feuilly did the math again. If he wanted to be an elementary teacher, he had to pass the national exam of _Professeur des écoles _, which he couldn't take without getting a Licence* and a Master* first (any Licence would do the trick, and that was an awesome fact, and he would definitely take Social Economics), which meant five years of university at the very best. Of course he would ask for all the scholarships he could have, would keep working and earning money, but still. It was scary to think that in less than twelve months, he would be totally independent, and would rely on this money he had so carefully saved, and this money alone. He would have to find a flat, he would have to make a weekly budget and _stick to it _, he would have to pay taxes, he would get to vote! To vote! How crazy was _that _?! And most of all, he would have to be careful. He didn't spend all those years counting every centime to spoil everything now by being prodigal.______  


He successfully got his baccaloréat*, with the “ _Assez bien _” mention which, ok, wasn't that amazing or anything, but he was still proud. Then he turned eighteen, left the house he had been living in for the last three years without a single glance back and settled in the flat the Crous* had provided for him near the university. He didn't manage to get the ward of the state scholarship, but got the other one and it wasn't that bad on its own. He still had his shitty job at McDonald, still did babysitting twice a week and sometimes manage to give a private lesson, but the biggest, craziest change of all, was that he was finally, _finally _going to university. All he had worked for since he was ten, everything he had done, all the late homework, the five hours sleep nights, all the times he felt downcast, all the times he had lost hope, all the stuff he didn't buy despite the envy, all of this! He had done all of this in order to make it here, at the exact spot he was standing today, and he had made it. _He had freaking made it! _How could his life get any better?_____  
And then, three and a half weeks after the beginning of the first semester, a bunch of students stepped in the classroom he was sharing with another solitary soul during a lost hour. He positively identified at least three of them as students from his Economy and Society class. There was the blond scary boy who was always asking questions and arguing with the teachers. Next to him was his perfect opposite and friend, a little guy who bounced around all the time. Then behind them and two other students Feuilly had never seen, was the tall, handsome and obviously bored guy he had spotted first thing on day one because man, what was it with his hair? And his eyes, and his skin, and his mouth, and _everything _?!___  
The kid with startling blue eyes and perfectly combed hair stepped forward, making eye contact with him. What was his name again? Something kind of pompous, he recorded. Something that vaguely sounded like Legolas, but less Elvish.  
“Sorry to interrupt,” Not-Legolas said, although he didn't look apologetic at all. “All the other classes are taken. Can we settle here?”  
Feuilly shrugged.  
“Yeah, sure. Make yourselves at home or whatever.”  
“We're having a meeting.” The other student added, the one who was all smiles, freckles and brown curls – Condefrac. Feuilly was almost certain his name was Condefrac. “Care to join us?”  
“What is it about?”  
“Politic and stuff. Mostly politic though. Come on, you're gonna like it.”  
“Can I join in?” The girl who first shared the classroom with Feuilly asked from the back of the room. “I don't do politic so much, but it could be fun.”  
Condefrac – was it really Condefrac? – beamed at her while Definitely-Not-Legolas mumbled: “We're not here for fun...”  
“The name's Musichetta.” The girl introduced herself.  
“Feuilly.”  
“Courfeyrac,” Mister my-smile-is-too-big-for-my-face raved, and man! Of course, Courfeyrac rang much more bells than Condefrac. “And let me introduce you to the rest of my crew: Les Amis de l'ABC.”  
Little did Feuilly knew what he had just signed for. And had he known that he would have sign again and again, all over Courfeyrac's face, and all over the freaking university for the matter, because that was the best thing that ever and would ever happen to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it weren't too confusing =) Here are the explanations
> 
> HLM : Social accommodation for poor families. Usually crappy af.  
> In France, middle school is four years and high school only three. Students are usually between fifteen and sixteen when they start high school.  
> Crésus : name of a rich old dude from an old time. In french “Je ne suis pas Crésus”, translated by “I'm not Crésus” means “I'm not rich as fuck, kiddo, get over it.” More or less.  
> Baccaloréat : The French final exam at the end of high school.  
> Licence : Three first years of university.  
> Master : Two years followinf the Licence.  
> Crous : System that provides accommodations, scholarships and other things for university students.
> 
> Is it clear enough? If there is anything else you didn't understood, don't hesitate to ask me =)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget the kudos and comment, it's my only salary ;)  
> <3 <3


End file.
